Dustman
The Silver Blade
WELCOME TO THE SPARROW'S HIDEAWAY
When birds upon,
the treetops roost,
turn branches to archways
Round the corner o' yonder hill, and ye might find -
The Sparrow's Hideaway...
Ye lost,
ye villains,
ye saints,
ye young,
The woodwork shifts, the bird depicted turning its head as if to scrutinize a worm.
"But you liked the reference, right? Seems like you've enjoyed that form some time now. I've wanted to use that one for a while now; and how it will look upon the side! Imagine a traveler, tracing their finger or claw gently upon-"
The relief scrambles, and reorganizes. The bird flaps rapidly in place, as if startled. Leaves from the branch it perches upon detach and drift across the surface.
"Well, the place need have a new name, and you're not offering anything. We do this every time -"
With a single flap and a few gentle curves so to indicate the displacement of air, the bird jumps into the air - presumably, onto another scene within the walls of the inn.
"'The Sparrow's Hideaway' for this generation, then. Needs some workshopping, but that will be for another day. I should get to prepping the cider and decoration. Handle the rest, will you?"
ye old,
"Mhmmmm....It's beginning to sound a bit like a carol, is it not? Last I checked it wasn't near Saturnalia."ye rich,
ye poor...
Everything in the corner of the in was rounded, and so while the inn was square in shape, it was unlike any man-made building in Tamriel. The main area was the public barroom, and at its center, the bar. Alcoves ran at uneven spaces of the room, their entrances accented by bark-like scales. The inn was two stories tall - the first floor containing the public room and storage, the upper floor containing the rooms for guests to stay in overnight. Both floors had high ceilings, which were crowned by rafters, mostly aesthetic in nature, and at the very top of the open space connecting the first and second floor above the bar, frosted windows which streamed gentle daylight. The grand entrance at the northern end of the space was cloaked in dancing shadows and light - torch sconces burned green wood so as to make just enough smoke for the entrance to be lightly obscured, contained within a superficial wooden arch that obscured both the room's occupants to the left and right, as well the patron entering for the first few steps they walked; a bit light chicanery to complement the true magical nature of the inn.
The main floor was made of thin layers of bark and wood, layered gently enough so as to create a slight incline moving up from the bar itself. Currently, the large, scale-like layers were shifting about, and where the layers separated, thick branches would rise, growing unnaturally fast, weaving together to form tables, benches, stools, and chairs. Some collected stones emerged from sections of the wall which were layered like the floor. In a much larger alcove in the eastern side of the space, a small fireplace was formed, and three smooth high-backed chairs around it. The parts the walls that lacked the scale-like bark displayed carved reliefs - mostly nature scenes, each one occasionally adjusting with time.
Overall, watching the movement of the inn as it decorated itself seemed chaotic; to the trained eye of the proprietor, it was like watching an acrobat doing a routine - a living thing the inn was, thinking, designing, placing and replacing. Emerging from one of the closed rooms in the southern end of the inn, Sparo got to work placing table settings, some tapestries from all over Tamriel over unused scale-work on the walls, that sort of thing.
As the animation came to a halt, everything settled in with a slightly magical spark and dusting of tiny leaves. Sparo ascended the gently spiraling stairs that ran counterclockwise up to the upstairs balcony, and dressed the rooms, which were themselves fairly simple in size and accessory. When the various other elements of preparation were complete, he made his way to the central bar, adjusted his long black hair into a neat ponytail tied with a ribbon, and got to work setting out and cleaning peuterware.
"I wonder who will join us this day, old friend?"